


As Well As You

by vastlyunknown



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:14:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vastlyunknown/pseuds/vastlyunknown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an interneship in Paris, Kurt comes home to a new roommate and a whole new world of complications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My take on college roommate AU. Sort of.

“Vogue Paris, Kurt Hummel à l’appareil. Que puis-je faire pour vous?”

 

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee !!!!” Kurt jumped in his seat and flinched.

 

“Rach-,” he tried.

 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!!!”

 

Kurt sighed. He slumped against his desk, cupped his chin in his hand and let Rachel get it all out knowing full well there was no way of avoiding it. He hoped his ears would survive the trauma.

 

“This is a very long distance call, honey,” he said when she finally paused in her break-down, malfunction, spasm… whatever the hell was happening to her.

 

“Kuuuuuuuuuuuurt!!!! I got it! I got the part!!!” she all but screamed. Despite the damage to his eardrums, Kurt couldn’t help but grin.

 

“Rachel,” he squeaked. “Oh, Rachel! Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”

 

“Thank you. God! I wish you were here!”

 

“Me too,” Kurt smiled softly and pointedly ignored the prickling behind his eyelids. He’d been away for too long.

 

After years of begging and working for it, Kurt had finally obtained the Paris internship. Every intern that passed through Vogue.com and that made a name for themselves had gotten the Paris internship. A full year of training in La Capitale De La Mode; it was a dream come true. It was better than anything Kurt could have imagined. He’d worked with the best, acquired experience he never expected and made a name for himself. An intern name, but still a name and there were no small victories in the world of Fashion. However, it’d been ten months now and the Paris people were still reticent to let him go. He was flattered and if he didn’t miss his crazy life, New York and his family so much, he might just stay. Paris was gorgeous, romantic and demanding but he was lonely and desperate for warmth that only the people he loved could bring.

 

Rachel sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “No. None of this sadness. No tear-fest,” she said, though her voice sounded suspiciously watery. “This is good and you’ll be home in just a few weeks.”

 

Kurt cleared his throat. “Right. When do you start?”

 

“In two days. Oh my god, Kurt! I’m going to be on Broadway!”

 

“Does this mean you’re finally going to calm down?” he teased.

 

“Oh sweetheart, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

 

Kurt laughed and settled more comfortably on his chair to listen to the retelling of Rachel’s fraught audition process. At her NYADA senior showcase a few months ago (one that Kurt had regretfully missed but had seen enough bootlegs of to last him a lifetime), one of Carmen Thibodeaux’s ‘dear’ friend attended their production of Mama Mia. That friend happened to be none other than Timothy Sonberg, one of the most respected theater directors of the last twenty years. He was to Broadway what John Green was to literature and he fell in love with Rachel Berry the way Tim Burton fell for Johnny Depp. A few weeks later (enough time to drive Rachel -and by association Kurt- completely crazy) he asked her to audition for his new original musical called Marvelous. When she called Kurt with the good news, he swore the ocean between the continents seprating them shook with the force of her excitement. Rachel had had to prepare the necessary changes in case she got the part which meant making sure she could go back to NYADA to finish her degree once she was done with the part. It was something that she cared for vehemently.

 

“You’ll be marvelous,” he said. It was meant as a taunt but it came out too softly for that. He was so proud and happy for her. His little psycho; she did it.

 

“Aw, now I really wish you were here. This is so fabulous but it won’t be the same without you,” she whined and Kurt could see her pout as clearly as if she was standing in front of him.

 

“Soon.”

 

……

 

From: theonlyberryinmyfamilytree@gmail.com

 

To: alexandermcqueenisnotdead@vogue.com

 

Subject: slight change of plan.

 

Dearest Kurt,

 

I’m so glad to hear about your coming home! It’s about time the Frenchies let you go. I imagine it must have been hard for them but you belong to us Kurt. I’m glad The Hummel-Berry-Jones-Wright Campaign to Get Our Boy Back has finally worked. I swear Burt and Isabelle text each other daily to exchange sonnets about your perfection. It’s disgustingly adorable. Let’s not even talk about Finn and Noah. They keep denying it but I swear I caught them planning an elaborate Kurt-napping two months ago. We really miss you.

 

So. Yay! You’re coming back and I’m so very happy.

 

That being said, I will not be able to pick you up from the airport next month. Timothy has decided that the show won’t be premiering in New York but will go straight on tour. While I am, as you can surely imagine, disappointed, I am a professional and will bend for the sake of the show. And no, Kurt, not in that way, you pervert!

 

Small issue, nothing major, really. Mercedes has found a new place on the other side of the city and won’t be able to stay. It was challenging living together (us divas need our space) but I’ll miss her dearly. Of course she was no Kurt Hummel but she was a fun roommate to have while you were away.

 

I can see your frown from here, dear friend. Do not worry about the apartment; I have already started looking for a roommate to replace me while I’m away. (Timothy is talking about six to twelve months.) Do not fret, as I am an excellent judge of character and promise not to leave until I find someone who deserves your fabulous chocolate soufflés.

 

I’m devastated I won’t be home when you’ll come back but I promise to do my best to come visit soon.

 

With all my love,

 

Rachel Barbra Berry.

 

Xxx

 

P.S: Santana is picking you up from the airport. Sorry.

 

….

 

From: soulchildjones@gmail.com

 

To: alexandermcqueenisnotdead@vogue.com

 

Subject: Took you long enough!

 

Why hello Gorgeous,

 

I hear (actually the whole of New York could, Rachel’s been so loud about it I’m thinking of shoving a sock into her mouth) you’re finally coming back. Finally! I missed you, boo. New York isn’t the same without you. Actually, nothing is the same without you. I can’t wait to hear all about Paris and French boys and French food and French boys and French couture and French boys and French wines and French boys.

 

Did I mention boys? Of the French type? Because I want to hear aaaaaaaaaall about that. ;)

 

I know Rachel told you about my moving out and I know it’s an inconvenience but I can’t let this opportunity pass me by. It’s a great place, close to work and it’s cheap, which as you know, in New York is like having found the Holy Grail. I’m sorry. I was really looking forward to being your roommate. I’m still a bit pissed Rachel got to be yours first. And no, living with her was so not like living with you. Not quite.

 

But no matter. I’ll make sure Rachel finds a great replacement (but let’s be real, no one will top me and then you’ll be back and we’re gonna spend so much time together you’ll get sick of me.

 

Take care, Angel.

 

Xxx

 

P.S: I will try to keep the Berry-Crazy to a minimum.

 

……

 

From: theonlyberryinmyfamilytree@gmail.com

 

To: alexandermcqueenisnotdead@vogue.com

 

Subject: the new Rachel.

 

Dearest bestie,

 

You can go back to sleeping full nights, Kurt. I found the perfect roommate.

 

You can thank me later.

 

Yours always,

 

Rachel.

 

Xxx

 

Kurt re-read the email for the third time and wondered how he could actually be friends with Rachel. She was the worst when she was being cryptic. Go back to sleep, his ass. It’ll be a miracle if he ever slept again. Come to think of it, if Rachel chose his new roommate, he’s sure he’ll never close his eyes for more than a blink ever again. He grabbed his phone and sent a quick message.

 

To Rachel: You are dead to me.

 

From Rachel: Don’t judge without knowing.

 

To Rachel: How can I even judge this person? I know nothing about them.

 

From Rachel: My point exactly. Don’t you trust me?

 

To Rachel: Oh, that’s a loaded question. You’re being too cryptic about it for me to have peace of mind.

 

From Rachel: You’ll be fine. And yes that was an eye-roll in text form.

 

To Rachel: You’re officially dead to me.

 

From Rachel: Was that an attempt at having the last word?

 

To Rachel: Yes.

 

From Rachel: And they say I’m the drama queen.

 

To Rachel: It takes one to know one. Also: shut up!

 

……

 

From: alexandermcqueenisnotdead@vogue.com

 

To: soulchildjones@gmail.com

 

Subject: TRAITOR!!!!

 

Mercedes Fay Jones! You told me you’d keep an eye on her! You promised! I swear to God, I’m never leaving the country ever again.

 

There *will* be hell to pay. Trust me on this.

 

Kurt.

 

P.S: if I get murdered in my sleep, you’re in charge of explaining why to my father.

 

……

 

From: soulchildjones@gmail.com

 

To: alexandermcqueenisnotdead@vogue.com

 

Subect: Re: TRAITOR!!!!

 

Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Don’t you threaten me! I have been keeping an eye on her, you ungrateful idiot. Don’t worry about it. Everything’s under control. You’ll love your new roommate. ;)

 

Xxx

 

Shaking his head, Kurt put his laptop away and decided to focus on packing. Clearly, his friends, who by nature were already crazy, were utterly lost without his guidance. Hopefully, if he wasn’t savagely killed in his sleep, he could teach them a thing or two.

 

……

 

The car ride with Santana had been dreaded more than it should have been. She was rash and a bit obnoxious at times but she was a force of nature and she was his friend. It only took a few minutes alone to remember that. Sure, she took a jab at his fabulous hat and summer scarf but she also didn’t stop asking questions about Vogue and his adventures in Paris (even if those questions were really inappropriate more often than not). There was a lot to be said about Kurt’s friends but for better or for worse they were his friends and they never missed an occasion to show it. Especially nowadays.

 

“So, I hear Berry got you a little present?” she said as she parked in front of Kurt and Rachel’s building. Well, Kurt-And-Anonymous-Person-Because-Rachel-Is-Crazy’s building.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked before getting out of the car.

 

“The new roommate,” she elaborated as she clicked open the car trunk.

 

“You know about this person?”

 

Santana’s laugh did nothing for Kurt’s nerves. “Wait, wait, wait! This is too good to be true. She didn’t tell you about him?”

 

Kurt almost dropped his suitcase. “Him?”

 

“Oh, Kurtie Kurt. You’re about to enter gay heaven,” she smirked and Kurt felt like taking the first flight back to Paris.

 

“How do you even know about this?” he asked her. His voice was embarrassingly high but he couldn’t care less.

 

“I might have peaked at Rachel’s selection the last time I saw her. She had his picture displayed on your coffee table like a damn trophy.”

 

Kurt groaned loudly at that piece of information. Rachel is a never ending source of second-hand embarrassment. 

 

After that, they quickly got upstairs since Kurt had only the one suitcase. The rest of his stuff had been shipped over last week and Rachel promised that everything was as it should be. Kurt however wasn’t inclined to believe Rachel about anything anymore. He was about to dig in his pocket to fish out his keys but realized it was unnecessary since the door was open. Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream was blasting and the look Santana sent his way was enough to make strippers blush.

 

He took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold only to stop short a few seconds later.

 

Skin.

 

So much skin.

 

Male, glistening with sweat skin.

 

A blond guy with a very impressive six-pack was lounging on Kurt’s couch with a beer in his hand chatting with another half-naked man. Older, his hair dark and wavy with blue eyes to make nuns sin, the second man was focusing on putting together what looked like a desk. Just as Kurt thought that he might have died and went to gay heaven as Santana had suggested, a third guy stepped from what used to be Rachel’s bedroom and Kurt felt the Earth shift underneath him. He was so devastatingly gorgeous, Kurt could cry about it. He was rather on the short side and Kurt had always thought he had a thing for tall men but this tiny person had managed to alter his views on the matter in a couple of seconds only. He was compact but he looked soft and adorable at the same time and Kurt didn’t understand how that was fair or even possible. He was wearing a white tank top (not half-naked but naked enough for Kurt’s brain to short-circuit) and loose black shorts that accentuated his ridiculously trim waist. He had a mane of cute unruly curls and eyes the color of sunshine or honey or caramel, Kurt couldn’t quite decide from this distance. None of the three men had yet heard or seen them but that soon changed.

 

“I knew it! I knew Rachel filmed cheap gay porn as a hobby,” Santana said with a huge smirk and her eyes were as round as Kurt had ever seen them.

 

“This isn’t happening,” Kurt muttered to himself just as Curls finally noticed them standing in the entryway.

 

“Oh! Hi! I’m Blaine,” he said coming forward; a hand extended and a smile as bright the night lights on Time’s Square.

 

Kurt shook his hand. “Kurt.”

 

“I figured. Rachel’s told me so much about you. I feel like we’ve known each other for a while,” Blaine said, smile unwavering.

 

“I wish I could say the same,” Kurt drawled, hoping to hide his blush behind a little bit of snark. Blaine’s smile faltered in confusion.

 

“What do you mean?” His voice was like melted caramel on a sundae. Kurt was this close to just throwing his hands up in the air and asking where the hidden cameras were.

 

“Let’s just say this is all a bit of a surprise.”

 

“What part?” Blaine’s nose did something at that moment; a cute little scrunch, that made Kurt want to curl up on the floor. This wasn’t good at all.

 

Oh, where do I start? Your half-naked friends. The fact that you all look like fallen angels. You’re listening to Katy Perry. I was expecting one of Rachel’s irritating girlfriends from NYADA not someone with a penis and eyes worth weeping for.

 

“Rachel didn’t say much, that’s all, and she forgot to mention there’d be three of you. I’m not sure we’ve got the space,” Kurt finally said, his eyes darting to the two other men in the room.

 

Blaine’s eyes crinkled charmingly at the corners, making Kurt stomach dip and swoop.

 

“Oh, no. It’s just me. Sam and Coop are just helping me settle in. Hm… Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Blaine said before leading the way to the center of the loft.

 

Santana was being uncharacteristically quiet (she should have made enough crude and offensive jokes by now to have them fleeing to the other side of the country). When Kurt turned his eyes to her, she was snapping pictures of the three newcomers, not caring in the slightest if they caught her in the act. Kurt glared and tried to snatch her phone away but she was too quick.

 

“Santana, I swear to God, if-,” he started furiously but she interrupted him.

 

“Keep your panties on, Hummel. This is for science,” she snickered.

 

He rolled his eyes but chose to ignore her. He preferred not to think about what a lesbian would do with blurry pictures of shirtless guys. Granted they were rather exquisite specimens but still, it didn’t bear thinking of.

 

He made his way over to them, catching the end of their conversation.

 

“… just put the damn shirt back on,” Blaine glared at the stunning brunette.

 

“It’s too warm, B. I think your new roommate will survive the sight of my naked chest,” he replied with a blinding smile. Blaine rolled his eyes and turned to Kurt. He shook his head and it looked like an apology. Kurt, who quite frankly had not regained all his capacities yet, only shrugged. Blaine cleared his throat. Kurt guessed the awkwardness was to be expected; they were strangers after all.

 

“Kurt, this is Sam Evans, my best friend,” Blaine started patting the blonde’s guy shoulder. Sam smiled easily and nodded his head. He had beautiful green eyes and if Kurt forgot about his penchant for shirtlessness (which was a feat on its own because those were fine abs indeed) Sam reminded him of a southern gentleman.

 

“Hey, dude!” Sam said shaking Kurt’s hand.

 

“Hello,” Kurt tried to smile but he wasn’t sure his brain transmitted the command correctly.

 

“And this is Cooper,” Blaine added, gesturing to the Adonis standing next to Sam.

 

These people must have escaped from an Armani underwear ad; it was the only plausible explanation. People in Kurt’s life were never that obviously, in-your-face, breathtakingly attractive. Of course there had been encounters with a few models at Vogue.com but they always seemed untouchable, barely human in their perfections. These three men, while very good looking, were all smiling easily and didn’t seem so scary. Cooper had twinkling blue eyes, a mass of wavy dark hair and a jaw that would make Brad Pitt fall to his knees.

 

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you, Kurt,” he said his voice like silk while shaking Kurt’s hand. He slung an arm around Blaine’s shoulders causing the shorter man to roll his eyes in a gesture that seemed to be so engrained; it didn’t look like a conscious effort. It reminded Kurt of himself and Finn. “I trust you’ll take good care of my little brother.” At that piece of information, Kurt’s eyebrows shot up.

 

“You’re related?”

 

“Unfortunately,” Blaine mumbled while trying to escape Cooper’s hold.

 

“Well, it’s a pleasure,” Santana drawled as she planted herself next to Kurt. The three men turned to look at her and while Sam and Cooper took her in with obvious interest (it was the middle of July and Santana’s dress was more of a T-shirt than anything else), Blaine’s eyes remained detached. Friendly but clearly not as interested as Sam’s or Cooper’s.

 

Hm.

 

“This is Santana Lopez. No relations,” Kurt deadpanned and was warmed to his toes by Blaine’s answering chuckle.

 

“Hi, boys,” she said wriggling her fingers. Kurt refrained from scowling. Barely. He needed new friends. The old batch wasn’t healthy anymore.

 

“Down girl,” he said, elbowing her without caring if the gesture was seen or not.

 

“I’m sorry for the mess,” Blaine said gesturing to the unfinished desk. Now that Kurt’s eyes weren’t drawn to naked skin, he could see opened cardboard boxes here and there. There was a small piano in the middle of the living-room area and he could see a couple of suitcases leaning against the kitchen table.

 

“It’s alright,” he reassured.

 

“I was supposed to get here two days ago but someone doesn’t know how to read a calendar,” Blaine explained while glaring at his brother.

 

“You’re such a grandpa sometimes. Late or not you got here, didn’t ya?” Blaine’s answering scowl made Kurt’s lips twitch. “You’re not happy about your chauffeur’s attitude, squirt? Get your own car.”

 

“Go put a shirt on and stop calling me that. Anyway,” Blaine said turning back to Kurt with a much more pleasant expression. “I promise we’ll be done in a couple of hours.”

 

Kurt waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Blaine seemed to be genuinely embarrassed and sorry, so despite Kurt’s own discomfort, he didn’t want his new roommate to feel bad. Especially since he wasn’t responsible for making Kurt feel ill at ease. Well, beside his absurdly beautiful face and his half naked entourage (whom despite Blaine’s insistence and pointed looks still refused to put their shirts back on). Rachel was to blame for this quite unseemly first encounter and Kurt wouldn’t lose an opportunity to make her pay.

 

“Really, it’s… um, it’s okay. I have some unpacking of my own to do,” he said waving toward his forgotten suitcase.

 

“Oh! Right! Rachel told me you were in Paris. Wow! Welcome home!” Blaine said with a smile so lovely, it left Kurt breathless.

 

He smiled back. “Welcome to you too. Please, make yourself at home and if you have any questions or anything, just come find me.”

 

Blaine nodded eagerly. “I will. Thanks.”

 

Kurt grabbed Santana’s arms and dragged her out of the apartment.

 

“But, wait. Can’t I stay? I wanna play!” she complained but didn’t resist Kurt’s insistent tugging.

 

“You’re infuriating. I almost forgot about that while I was away,” he said releasing her.

 

“You did not.”

 

Kurt smiled slightly as he leaned against the doorframe. “I didn’t. Thanks for the ride.”

 

“Whatever. I’m glad I did. This was fun,” she smirked before leaning over and dropping a quick kiss to his cheek. It surprised Kurt a little but he didn’t let it show; it was actually very sweet. “Glad to have you back, McQueen.”

 

He smiled. “Glad to be back, Cruella.”

 

“I hope you have condoms,” she said with a wink as she turned to leave.

 

“I hope you fall down the stairs,” was his hissed response.

 

As he passed by the men working, Blaine looked up and smiled. It was such an effortless gesture but it was stunning in its simplicity and beauty. Kurt smiled back and he hoped his thoughts weren’t reflected on his face because, boy, was he in trouble.

 

Kurt headed for his room without looking back. He’d missed his home so much in the last fifteen months and now he was finally back but things were different. He didn’t know what this difference would bring to his life but so far, the view wasn’t too bad.


	2. Chapter 2

Later that night, after unpacking, calling his father, making sure his stuff was where it needed to be (Rachel had done a good job with it and it was probably a reflection of her guilty conscience that she dedicated so much of her time putting every brooch and ever picture where it belonged), taking a shower and a nap because the day had been nothing if not a shock to the system, Kurt reemerged from his room. A couple of years ago, after many a sleepless night due to impromptu visitors and other embarrassing moments (Kurt had nothing against nudity, as long as he didn't have to see Rachel's bare butt peaking from behind a curtain), Rachel and Kurt had agreed to put up walls and doors to separate their own parts of the loft. It had cost quite a few bucks but it was money well spent.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and made his way to the kitchen. The apartment was quiet and dark but he could hear someone –hopefully his new/temporary roommate and not a robber- tinkering away in the kitchen. As he made his way through the apartment he realized that everything seemed to be in its place. Kurt could see the piano had been pushed under one of the window and he agreed that it was the perfect place for it. There were no more cardboard boxes or suitcases in sight and he was almost certain Sam and Cooper had left.

"Hi," Blaine smiled as Kurt appeared in front of him. He was making himself a sandwich; turkey and mustard.

Kurt paused. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable; it was just that he was never really great with strangers.

"Hi," he replied with a nod and a small smile.

"Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you. You guys were very quiet. Thank you for that."

Blaine shrugged the comment off. "It's the least I could do after exposing you to my brother."

Kurt chuckled and shook his head. "It was bit weird meeting each other like we did but it wasn't your fault. Circumstances and crazy friends are to blame, Blaine."

"Crazy friends?" Blaine asked as he settled with his plate at the table. Kurt busied himself with making a cup of green tea. He should be hungry, he actually dreamt of food during his nap but the jetlag was still upsetting his stomach.

"You've met Rachel, right?"

Blaine finished chewing before answering. "I did. She was a bit… um, intense but overall very nice."

"That's very diplomatic of you," Kurt shook his head. "But the ugly truth is that she is bonkers. Obviously, you haven't known her long enough to realize this but if it helps put things into perspective I could for example tell you that I knew nothing about you until the moment I stepped through this door this morning." Blaine turned around in his chair to gape at Kurt. Kurt nodded his head sadly. "True story."

"But… but, what? How? I mean she assured me that she told you everything and that you were happy with her 'selection' –her words not mine," Blaine stumbled through his explanation with an adorably confused expression. Kurt was going to have to learn how to get immune to that face.

"Don't ask me. I've been friends with her since high school and I still don't know how her brain works. I guess she got off on a power trip because there was an ocean between us and short of teleporting myself to New York, there was nothing I could do," Kurt said finishing his preparations and settling opposite Blaine at the table. He mentally patted himself in the back for barely hesitating.

"Well, I promise I'm not a sociopath," Blaine said solemnly.

"See, now that's exactly what a sociopath would say. How can I trust you?"

Blaine pursed his lips and Kurt let him collect his thought while he tried not to gaze into his warm eyes for too long. It was a struggle. They were the color of honey right then but who knew what color they'd be tomorrow morning when the sun was shining through the windows? Kurt shook his head slightly to erase these silly thoughts.

"I could tell you more about myself?" Blaine prompted.

"That would be a good start considering I wasn't sure to which gender you belonged to a few hours ago."

Blaine's eyes widened. "I hope my gender doesn't offend you," he said with a small chuckle.

Oh, if only you knew. But he probably did. They'd only spend a handful of minutes together but most people didn't need more than that to label Kurt.

"I'll live," he replied while hiding a smile behind his mug. "So, facts. Bring it."

"Ok. Hm, let's see… My name's Blaine Anderson. You should probably know that. I'm 22. I'm originally from Ohio. I'm studying at N.Y.U to become a teacher. In fact I start student teaching in September- kindergarten, super excited," he said this with the goofiest of smiles and Kurt could totally picture him surrounded by 3 to 6 year-olds, color crayons and juice boxes. "I am allergic to cats which is probably the cruelest thing fate has ever done to me because I am kind of a sucker for small animals. I drink coffee like I need it to live. I am Sagittarian. Music is the blood in my veins so I'm going to preemptively apologize for my more than eclectic tastes. I read a lot. I'm not a loud person but I have days when I can't stand still for more than ten seconds so I promise to always try to be a respectful roommate. I'm also gay," he finished while peeling a piece of turkey from his sandwich and bringing it to his mouth. Kurt tried not to choke on the sip of tea he'd just taken.

"Wow. Okay. You don't beat around the bush."

"I don't see the point," Blaine said with a shrug and Kurt liked that a lot. He didn't know Blaine, not even after the extensive lists of random facts he'd just spewed but he seemed to be honest and comfortable in his own skin and that was something Kurt could only admire. Blaine smiled a gentle smile and put his sandwich on its plate before crossing his arms on the table and leaning over it. "Your turn."

"Okay. I'm Kurt Hummel, 23, also from Ohio-which, hm, small word, right? I'm an intern at Vogue . com just back from a fifteen months internship at Vogue Paris. Be jealous," he said, one eyebrow raised playfully.

"Oh, I am."

"I love music as well and even though I don't own any Katy Perry album, I can see the appeal. I'm more of a show tunes and oldies kinda guy. I try to make the most of my days so I'm rarely at the apartment except for sleep and Sundays. Sundays are for sleep and food. I have lived with Rachel I-Love-The-Sound-Of-My-Own-Voice Berry for the last five years and yes the fifteen months in Paris count as well. You wouldn't believe the phone bills we cried over. So, don't worry about being too loud. My ears and I are immune. I'm a cheesecake enthusiast. I don't share my cheesecakes unless you're very nice. And what a coincidence? I'm gay, too."

"Funny how that happens," Blaine said with an eye-roll and Kurt realized he saw through Rachel's ploy as well. "Queer, even."

Kurt's initial response to that was to roll his eyes but he couldn't help the way his lips twitched into a smile. "I have a feeling you're a huge dork. A bad feeling."

"It's one of my finest qualities."

"We'll see about that. In any case, welcome to your new apartment for the next six to twelve months," Kurt with a toast of his tea mug.

"Thank you. I'm certain it'll be an interesting adventure."

Interesting didn't even begin to cover it.

…

From: alexandermcqueenisnotdead@vogue.com

To: theonlyberryinmyfamilytree@gmail.com

Subject: revoked best-friendship card.

If I were you, I would sleep with one eye open. You never know when revenge will be served but let me tell you, it will more painful than your reindeer sweater collection ever was.

Not-Talking-To-You-Ever-Again Kurt.

P.S: did you order him from Santa or something?

…

From Blaine: Hey!

To Blaine: Hi… How are you?

From Blaine: Fine. You?

To Blaine: Fine Thanks.

To Blaine: Did you need something?

From Blaine: No. I'd just realized I've had your number for a few days now and we haven't exchanged texts yet.

To Blaine: Oh. That's rather sweet.

From Blaine: XD. So how is Ohio?

To Blaine: Unchanged. How's the loft?

From Blaine: Still standing.

To Blaine: So you did read the Terms of Agreement.

From Blaine: I'm nothing if not thorough. ;)

…

It was a short but very hot summer in New York City. Kurt got the last two weeks of July off in order to relax before starting work again. Isabelle still sent him daily e-mails and texts but only half of them were work related. He went to visit Burt and Carole who practically spent the three days he was in Ohio cuddling him to death. Santana and Mercedes were frequent visitors. He managed to get caught up with the latest gossip both at work and amongst his friends. Tina and Mike were at it again and he was so very glad to hear it. Mercedes broke up with Jack (the bass player from the band she sometimes worked with) which was also a very good thing and Quinn had graduated from Yale with flying colors and minimal scandal to her name. Finn was in summer school again to catch up with his degree and Kurt was so proud of his idiotic brother; he knew teaching was what Finn was born to do. Music education was a perfect fit for him.

And then there was Blaine. Blaine and his charmingly dashing personality. His soft smile and child-like laughter. His shining eyes and beautiful hands. Blaine and his stupidly generous heart and unbearable talent. Blaine and the way everyone liked him, even Santana. (He caught them dancing and singing around the apartment one afternoon. Beyonce's End Of Time had never been used as blackmail material before but Kurt was never one to ignore a challenge.) People like Blaine weren't supposed to be real. They were fantasy, myth, beautiful songs, gorgeous stories but never blood and flesh and, oh god, never so alluring.

And for the love of God, the man was so freaking nice he was putting Mike Chang to shame. He was always so polite and considerate; Kurt always got flustered and flushed a deep red around him. Who knew decency was such a turn on?

They were still slightly awkward around each other (shower-time was a whole new level of uncomfortable) but for two strangers, they managed their new lives together quite well. Sharing space wasn't the ordeal Kurt had imagined it would be. More often than not, Blaine played the piano while Kurt lounged on the sofa, going through magazines or sketching. It was quiet and very nice. Once or twice already, they had stocked junk food, pulled on their PJs and marathoned the latest atrocity reality-TV had to offer. It had been fun because Kurt's bitching could only be rivaled by Blaine's snarky commentary.

It was very strange to go from Rachel's brass personality and familiarity to Blaine's easy but foreign presence. Sometimes, Kurt forgot himself and went into Rachel's room to ask for the whereabouts of this or that only to be confronted with the image of an almost sleepy Blaine reading on the armchair under the window. He'd stumble on his words and try not blush while apologizing. Blaine would wave it off and, with a voice raspy with little use but still so very gentle and sweet, he'd indicate where this or that was.

Blaine Anderson wasn't a typical boy. He was tidy and clean. He didn't pout or grumble about having to do the dishes or cook a meal. On the contrary, he smiled and danced and sang his way through every chore. The bathroom was never dirty. There was no misplaced hair product or towels on the floor. He knew how to use a stove and he always left the kitchen spotless even after the chocolate mousse incident a few days ago. He even helped Kurt when he wasn't supposed to. He said it was a good way to bond because you never really knew someone unless you cooked dinner with them. And damn him and his ridiculous eyebrows but Blaine was right. One night, they had cooked a simple chicken pot-pie with a strawberry cheesecake as desert and they had spent a wonderful evening. It had been filled with laughter, music and anecdotes about their respective glee clubs. For Kurt who had spent a few of his formative years living with Finn Hudson, it was like a wave of fresh air. Literal fresh air.

There were also Blaine's friends. Sam was basically a permanent fixture in their apartment. Blaine kept apologizing about it but Kurt didn't mind. Sam was one of the nicest guys he'd ever met. He was a dork of epic proportions and it only got worse when Blaine was around but it was cute and maybe Kurt was biased but Blaine in his Ravenclaw T-shirt was all kinds of wonderful. Cooper was back in L.A but he never missed an opportunity to text them. Blaine swore up and down he never gave him Kurt's phone number so the mystery of how he got it still kept Kurt up at night sometimes. It was alright; his texts though quite ridiculous were never mean or noisy. Kurt also met David, an old Dalton buddy who started practicing Law this summer in New York. He was laid-back, hilarious and quite charming in his own right.

All in all, Kurt's life had been invaded by cute, charming, interesting guys and quite frankly, he didn't know if he should freak-out or sit back and enjoy it while it lasted. The latter seemed like the best option.

…

From Blaine: Hey, how do you like your coffee?

To Blaine: Hot and directly transfused to my blood.

From Blaine: Bad day?

To Blaine: Bad week, more like it.

From Blaine: So maybe a little coffee would help.

To Blaine: We have coffee here.

From Blaine: Ah but is it Café Court good?

To Blaine: Bring it to meeeeeee.

From Blaine: I knew that would work. What's your order?

To Blaine: Non-fat Mocha. You're my hero.

From Blaine: This is just an excuse to avoid another hour of Sam and Mercedes making googly eyes at each other.

To Blaine: Less heroic. Still appreciated.

From Blaine: :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs mentioned in this chapter:  
> Shiver, Shiver -Walk the Moon  
> Hey Ya! - Outkast  
> He Wasn’t Man Enough For Me - Toni Braxton  
> Witchcraft - Frank Sinatra  
> Bring It On Home To Me - Sam Cooke (but to be honest, I prefer Darren’s version.)  
> Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell  
> We Are Young - fun.

When August rolled in, Kurt went back to work. Getting back into the old routine was both surprising and terrifying. He’d spent sixteen months away and in an enterprise as prolific and ever-changing as Vogue it seemed like a lifetime. Of course, he kept himself à jour as he was working for Vogue still but New York was another machine. It was another energy and another crew. It was mind-bogging how much had changed while he was away.

 

His desk wasn’t his desk anymore. Isabelle had moved all of his stuff (not that there was much of it) to a (slightly) bigger cubicle closer to her own office. The change was welcome but he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad that he hadn’t gotten to say good-bye to his old spot. It was miserably small but it had been his for years and he felt a little ripped off.

 

Most of the people he used to hang out with were gone. They’d been interns for the most part and for a lot of them the internship was either a steppingstone for bigger things or a wake-up call of monumental proportions. He still had Isabelle and she wasn’t the only one he got along with but being the new-old guy was unsettling.

 

People were treating him differently. He wasn’t just some new undeserving kid from nowhere who had stolen their spotlight by befriending Isabelle. Things weren’t so simple anymore. He had been an intern for Vogue Paris and that seemed to have changed things. Never mind the fact that he’d been an intern at Vogue . com for about four years before he left. Paris changed things.

 

There were those who had followed his progress in France and who were quite impressed with the results. Some of them even stopped looking at him as if he was poisoning the whole office with the stench his Ohioness. There were those who looked at him with envy, a kind of desperation behind their eyes that he hoped no one would ever see in his. Snarky comments and reluctance to have anything to do with him were more obvious than ever. And then there were the new interns. Those were scary. Their obnoxious ass-kissing was driving him to the edge of sanity. Kurt didn’t suffer fools easily and his time spent in the middle of them made him a difficult person to be with.

 

The first week back was a test to his endurance and patience. He was grateful to Isabelle who was his lighthouse through everything. She was so happy to have him back that she brought him lunch for a whole week. However, he was Kurt Hummel and if he survived McKinley, he pretty much could survive anything. So he powered through the bullshit and smirked in the face of their inability of making him feel less than what he was. It helped that he actually loved his job and everything crazy it entailed.

 

The biggest surprise of them all came from Blaine.

 

When Blaine moved in, Kurt hadn’t known what to expect. He’d seemed like a good guy but most people are capable of playing nice until they found the perfect opportunity to stab you in the back. So while he’d been smiling and trying to be the best welcoming roommate, Kurt had simply been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’d just hoped it wouldn’t weigh too much and that it wouldn’t fall on his head. Kurt couldn’t be blamed; the guy had been hand-picked by Rachel.

 

But days, weeks went by and Blaine only seemed to get better with time.

 

Their apartment was always buzzing with life. Music was always playing and though sometimes Blaine’s music taste was endearingly weird, he had a profound respect for the art. Kurt’s favorite Blaine album was Walk the Moon. It wasn’t his usual taste but Blaine had a tendency to sing along and his rendition of Shiver, Shiver was something Kurt wasn’t about to forget anytime soon. When it wasn’t music, it was laughter. Blaine was funny is the most subtle and ridiculous ways and he seemed to find Kurt just as funny. They could spend days bantering back and forth about the silliest of things, often driving their friends crazy because they were left out of the jokes.

 

And when it wasn’t music or laughter, it was simple words. They talked all the time. There didn’t seem to be something Blaine wasn’t interested in. The more they talked the more they wanted to keep talking. Words had become precious; something Kurt locked inside him until the moment he got to share them with Blaine. Nothing mattered until it was told to Blaine. Blaine, who was practically a stranger but who seemed to understand him like no one had before. The art of conversation, with flowing hyperbole, subtle irony, flamboyant metaphors and modern poetry gave Kurt’s life a new tempo, a new rhythm; one that left him reeling and breathless. 

 

Kurt learned so much about Blaine in such a short amount of time. He knew what kind of shampoo he used, he knew what album Blaine listened to when he was feeling anxious (Mika or Queen), he knew he had stacks of books waiting to be read and yet every other day a new amazon order was delivered. He knew that Blaine had always wanted to live in New York but had gone to California first to be closer to his brother. He knew the reason he left was a bad break-up. He knew Blaine needed to perform to be happy but he didn’t need it to be his bread-maker. In fact, he’d rather stay an amateur and work with kids. He knew Blaine had a collection of bow-ties that could rival his scarves one. He knew he loved his parents but he got along better with his mother. He knew that no matter what, Blaine was decent person; one that never put his happiness above others’. Blaine had a temper but he never let it get the better of him. (That scowl of his was quite terrifying but so far it had only been directed at bigoted politicians or his brother.)

 

And Blaine knew just much about him, if not more. It was so easy to talk with him. They’d lose hours on the couch, chatting, laughing, gossiping and reminiscing and never see them pass.

 

It mattered in ways Kurt couldn't properly express without losing himself. Blaine's support was everything he needed.

 

Kurt didn’t see it coming but he had become Blaine’s friend. If nothing else proved it, the daily coffee from Café Court did.

 

……

 

From: bdanderson@nuy.uni.com

 

To: blondechameleon@live.com; pointandloveanderson@gmail.com, alexandermcqueenisnotdead@vogue.com; lawyerup@live.com; straightupbitch@hotmail.com; ohhelltothenojones@yahoo.com; tcchang@tisch.uni.com

 

Subject: gather round children

 

Hey people,

 

Remember that gig I auditioned for a few weeks ago and that I might have mentioned about 6 billion times a day ever since. Well, it’s happening. Next Wednesday. *squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee*

 

I hope to see you all there but I understand if you can’t make it on such a short notice. Tell everyone around you because the more the merrier, right?

 

See you all next Wednesday at 8:30 @ The Bella Note. See maps attached to this e-mail for more info.

 

Or you know see you at the loft since you all practically live there. This e-mail was pretty pointless, wasn’t it?

 

Ah well.

 

Toodles!

 

Blaine.

 

P.S: Not to pressure anyone or anything but this is kind of a big deal. I hope to make this gig more than a one-time thing so, if you’re free, please come. And no, I am not above begging.

 

…

 

“Morning,” Blaine mumbled as he padded sleepily to the coffee machine. Kurt looked up from his morning bagel and tried not to coo at Blaine’s appearance. He was wearing a black T-shirt with a pair of light sweatpants, his hair was the adorable mess of curls it was every morning before he managed to tame it with product and his feet were bare. He looked like the perfect cuddle buddy. It was quite distracting, really but it was the perfect way to start the day. Kurt was due to work in an hour and he loved his job but lately he’d been hoping for more home time.

 

“Good morning,” he said instead. “Nervous?”

 

“Ugh,” Blaine groaned as he let his head hung low. “Don’t remind me. I still have twelve hours ahead of me. Just enough time to lose my mind but please, I beg of you, let me have my coffee first,” he pleaded pathetically. Kurt laughed. “Oh! Go right ahead, laugh at my misery.”

 

He finished preparing his coffee, grabbed a bagel from the basket on the counter and came to join Kurt at the table. It gave just enough time for Kurt to stop laughing and control his expression into a more supportive one. He almost laughed again at the dejected and wounded look on his roommate’s face.

 

“Blaine.”

 

A pout.

 

“Blaiiiiine.”

 

A frown.

 

“You’re going to be amazing tonight.”

 

Finally, eye contact. Unsure but hopeful and so earnest it made Kurt’s breath stutter in his throat. Kurt extended a hand on the table and without hesitation, Blaine took hold of it.

 

It had become a thing in the last few days. At first, touches of any kind had been accidental: fingers brushing while passing each other the salt at the dinner table, feet brushing during TV time, Blaine squeezing himself behind Kurt in the kitchen, Kurt falling asleep on Blaine’s shoulder after he made him watch the first star wars trilogy (so what if he already knew the movies almost by heart because Finn had decided years ago that no brother of his was going to spend another minute being a ‘Georges Lucas virgin’? Blaine didn’t need to know that), Kurt preventing a nasty fall by catching Blaine’s shoulders as he tripped over his own feet.

 

All brief or unconscious touches that were never deliberate but that still burned in the gentlest way. However as the days passed and the two men grew comfortable around each other, the boundaries had changed a little. Kurt had discovered pretty early that Blaine was a very tactile person. He liked hugs, he accepted the girls’ kisses on his cheek with a delighted smile, and there were pats, light punches and brotherly hugs between him and Sam. Kurt also realized that the reason Blaine wasn’t as touchy-feely with him as he was with the rest of his friends was because of, well, Kurt. He'd always been so contained, so happy in his own space that most of the time people left a wide breadth of space between themselves and Kurt. Quite frankly, he’d never felt left out. Not until recently. It was the most baffling thing but his heart squeezed in disappointment every time he saw Blaine shy away from touching him. So, he took matter into his own hand-literally- and the day he got Blaine’s e-mail about his gig, Kurt welcomed him home with a congratulation hug. It had been brief but heartfelt and it had changed things. Blaine still hesitated to initiate contact sometimes but he was more than happy to reciprocate whatever Kurt started. Kurt tried not to think of all the directions this could lead them to.

 

“Amazing,” he repeated with a silly over-the-top southern accent that made a glorious smile bloom on Blaine’s face. After a few weeks of living together, Kurt knew how to get his roommate to relax.

 

“You’ll be there, right?”

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “And subject myself to your hippy kind of pop? I don’t think so, Mister!”

 

Blaine’s laughter transported him throughout the rest of the day.

 

….

 

The Bella Note was a small bar in the Village. It seemed to be well established in the community and the bar was packed with regulars and people who’d heard of open mic night. The group of friends had gathered around a couple of comfortable tables not far from the stage. Sam, Cooper (who despite Blaine’s insistence that he didn’t need to make the trip just for this had flown over from California), Santana, David, Mercedes, Tina, Mike (who were both madly in love with Blaine) and Kurt had gathered as much of their and Blaine’s friends as possible and the crowd was bound to be a little biased but it was worth it for the smile on Blaine’s face when he appeared on stage, guitar in hand. He looked nothing short of perfect in a red polo shirt, brown bow-tie and a pair of tight black jeans that left very little to the imagination. Kurt took a deep breath and willed himself not to mortify himself in front of a whole crowd of strangers by doing something idiotic like swooning.

 

“Good evening,” Blaine said in his smooth, happy voice. Cheers erupted from the crowd, it was mostly Sam, Cooper and Santana but they weren’t the only ones. “My name’s Blaine. I’m going to sing for you tonight. I… I hope you enjoy,” he finished with a small nod before sitting on the stool at the center of the stage.

 

He started with a delightful rendition of Hey Ya that had the crowd on its feet and dancing in a matter of seconds. He kept the rhythm going with He Wasn’t Man Enough which had Santana and Tina in stitches. He then proceeded to charm the pants off of everyone in the bar with Witchcraft. His voice was smooth, rich and utterly captivating. Mercedes kept fanning herself while throwing Kurt wide-eyed glances. Swooning was actually becoming a frightening possibility. The bar could have burned to the ground and Kurt wouldn’t have torn his eyes away. He was used to good (and sometimes not so good) performers. Show choir competitions, glee club, NYADA showcases, Broadway shows, concerts; Kurt wasn’t a stranger to talented people. What Blaine was doing on that stage with only his guitar and his voice was nothing short of magical.

 

“The next song is a personal favorite of mine. So, relax, grab your lover and don’t let them go,” Blaine said with a smirk and Kurt was sure he wouldn’t be able to walk home after that sultry look.

 

If you ever change your mind

 

About leaving, leaving me behind

 

Baby, bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin'

 

Bring it on home to me

 

“Boy! Shorty knows the way to someone’s panties, doesn’t he?” Santana muttered in his ears and Kurt was so dumbstruck that he couldn’t find it in him to berate her. Besides, she had a point. He was pretty sure half of the crowd was ready to go home with Blaine.

 

But he’s coming home with me…

 

The thought came unbidden but it lodged itself squarely in Kurt’s mind and refused to go away. Kurt had heard Blaine sing before tonight. They’d been living together for over six weeks now and Blaine hadn’t been lying when he said music was the blood in his veins. He was always singing, always playing the piano or the guitar, and always humming unknown tunes. This, however, was completely different. He wasn’t playing around, passing the time or simply singing. He was performing; laying his soul bare for everyone to see. It was breath-taking and Kurt couldn’t get enough of it.

 

It was obvious he wasn’t the only one. The crowd was back on their feet clapping and singing along. Some were dancing with their friends or significant others while others looked like Blaine was the materialization to every fantasy they’d ever had. They were all having a fantastic time and Kurt was happy for Blaine; hopefully it would mean more nights like this one.

 

The song came to an end and the crowd went crazy with excitement and cheers. Blaine had the most bashful and goofy smile on his face and Kurt’s own cheek would probably hurt from all the smiling he’d been doing. He might have been imagining the many ways to get Blaine out of his bowtie but it didn’t mean he wasn’t appreciative of the show.

 

“Thank you. How about we slow things down a little people, huh? Give us a bit of time to cool off, right?” Blaine said with another enticing smirk before sitting back down. The first few notes of Both Sides Now filled the air and Kurt smiled softly and let the song (and Blaine’s voice) transport him. When the song ended, Kurt caught the girls and Cooper wiping away tears. It was only when Tina passed him a tissue that he realized he’d been crying as well.

 

“Thank you. Wow, really, thanks. Um… For my last song, I’d like to call some of my friends up to the stage. I’m new to the city and these people have welcomed me into their lives with open arms and it wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t get to share this special night with them as well,” Blaine said. He put the guitar down on its stand and got off the small stage before making his way to his friends’ table. He made a bee-line for Kurt who glared at him with the whole force of his embarrassment.

 

“I am not going on that stage,” he hissed.

 

“Oh boo-hoo, you big baby,” Tina said before grabbing one of his arm and tugging him up. Blaine grinned at her before taking hold of Kurt’s other hand and leading him to the stage.

 

“I will murder you in your sleep,” Kurt said as he straightened his shirt watching as the rest of the group gathered around.

 

“Kurt, performing is second nature to you. It may have been a few years but you’ve still got it,” Mercedes said. A few microphones were found and brought to them as the cheering crowd looked on.

 

“I hate being unprepared,” Kurt all but pouted.

 

Blaine smiled gently. The look on his face was so open and reassuring Kurt almost forgot to be put-out.

 

“You’re going to be amazing,” Blaine assured while squeezing Kurt’s hand who decided right there and then that people like Blaine should be outlawed for the sake of sanity.

 

“Yeah, chill, dude! We got this!” Sam said before clapping his shoulder. “What are we singing again?” he asked making Mercedes giggle. Kurt threw her a surprised look but decided to store the information for later investigation.

 

“This would work better with a drum set but I’m sure we’ll do,” Blaine announced to the audience. Kurt shook his head in both disgust and self-pity at his charm.

 

Blaine played the first notes of We Are Young and Santana took the first lines with a smile only performing with friends could bring out of her. Kurt harmonized and swayed in rhythm with the music. He put his arms around Blaine and Tina, following the lead of the rest of the group; he smiled and didn’t miss the way Mercedes snuggled closed to Sam who had an awestruck expression every time she belted out a perfect note.

 

It wasn’t perfect –Cooper was trying a bit too hard to be in the spotlight, they had to share the microphones and they were still a bit emotional from Both Sides Now, puffy eyes and raspy voices- but it was great anyway. The crowd was singing along, their voices carried well and it was lovely in a way only friendship and music could be.

 

So if by the time the bar closes

 

And you feel like falling down

 

I'll carry you home,

 

Tonight.

 

They finished the song and for a second, before the cheers and applause, before the hugging and the teasing, before the smiles and the shoulder-pats, Blaine looked at Kurt and put his hand on his heart, a silent thank you, a message of kinship and understanding that pulsed through every fiber of Kurt’s being and left him more alive than he remembered being a long while.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stupid Cupid scene in this chapter is the main inspiration behind this story.

From: theonlyberryinmyfamilytree@gmail.com

To: alexandermcqueenisnotdead@vogue.com

Subject: Music speaks louder than words

Still ignoring my calls, huh? It's been seven long weeks. I think it's high time you stopped pretending you're not itching to talk to me about Blaine and do just that already! Kurt Hummel, I know you. I know you're not really mad at me. You're just jealous I found him before you did but honey I think you're forgetting something crucial here: I found him for YOU!

So, stop being mean and reply to my text, e-mails, tweets, Facebook pokes and other forms of communication. I am not above sending you smoke signals and fruits baskets. Though, I'm not sure you deserve them at this point.

And before you deny any interesting developments, Mercedes and Tina both sent me pics and recording of the night at the bar. The recording was bit shady but despite the obvious impromptu side of the performance, you guys sounded amazing. I'm devastated I wasn't there. I really miss you, Kurt.

Love,

The Elphaba to your Glinda.

Xxx

P.S: what's going on with Mercedes and that blond guy with the very impressive set of lips?

…

From: alexandermcqueenisnotdead@vogue.com

To: theonlyberryinmyfamilytree@gmail.com

Subject: RE: Music speaks louder than words

I'm not mad?! Rachel, if you were here right now, I'd slap you for that. I'll admit that Blaine is a great guy and he's the perfect roommate (better than some people I won't mention) but that's not the point. The point is that Santana knew about him before I did! How is that even fair? I think I'm allowed to torture you for a little while longer. It was embarrassing for everyone involved and you blatantly lied to the poor guy. You told him I knew everything I needed to know.

You've got some never, lady!

You're lucky our parents know nothing about this, I'm sure our fathers would have a few chosen words for you.

I'll grant myself another couple of weeks of fuming, thankyouverymuch and let you stew in the guilt you're pretending not to feel.

But yes that was a wonderful night, the details of which will be revealed only to the deserving.

Still-Infuriated Kurt Hummel.

X

P.S: I don't know what you're talking 'bout. *evil laughter*

…

Early September, Isabelle called Kurt as well as three other interns to her office and announced that a position as her assistant would open in January and that they were all serious candidates. The following months would serve as a try-out and that the best was expected from all of them. Despite their friendly relationship, Isabelle had never played favorites at work and Kurt felt the pressure and the opportunities fall on his shoulders like an anchor.

He'd been an intern for the last five years now and just before coming back from Paris, he had graduated from Parsons. It had been a conflicting situation to leave for Paris while still in the middle of his studies. He had a solid file, he'd worked hard and long, never stopping in his relentless efforts to succeed, and he was appreciated by his teachers but he was not above everyone else, no matter how much he liked to think he was. The project had almost been dismissed but Isabelle pleaded for him in front of the school board and through a complicated organization of over-seas courses and a plan for the following year's final port-folio they'd all agreed to let Kurt go to France while remaining a student at Parsons.

So, now there was this big opportunity to finally start earning good money and doing a thrilling job. Being an intern had its perks and working with Isabelle was a pleasure but the world still looked at the word intern like it was a pitiful disease. Kurt wasn't going to screw this up, he couldn't. He knew this was the opportunity of a lifetime and people were counting on him. He was counting on himself. So he started working even harder and longer, always pushing and making his presence known, understood and felt. He wanted to make a difference, be remembered and live his life like he'd always intended.

The result of that was exhaustion. One Friday afternoon in the beginning of October, after weeks of working his butt off and barely sleeping nor eating, Isabelle sent him home and told him sternly that his only assignment for the weekend was sleep and food in whatever order he felt like. For all her charm and sweetness, that woman could be very scary when she wanted to be.

The next morning, Kurt woke a little after 10:00, well rested but still a little dejected. He'd planned to use this weekend to finish organizing the samples they'd received on Thursday and there was the repertoire that needed and update, not to mention the November schedule which still needed some tweaking. He'd wanted to go to the office for at least a little while to get a head start but he knew Isabelle would sent him packing if he tried. Damn her for not letting him bring anything from the office either. He hadn't had a completely free weekend since August and, truth be told, he felt a little lost.

He got out of bed and decided he could at least use that time to clean the apartment. Blaine had probably already left for school ("School on a Saturday, Kurt, is like having your teeth pulled out while a butchered version of your favorite song plays in the background. It's inhuman. Don't make me go. Pleeeeease.") and Kurt had the loft to himself. So, he took an extra-long shower, changed into his comfortable black sweatpants and blue hoodie and he made himself a big breakfast. He selected his housework playlist, turned the volume up and pulled up his sleeves. He started with the kitchen and slowly but surely made his way around the loft.

While hard at work, he let his mind wander aimlessly. He thought about Rachel and how dearly he missed her. He knew the show was doing pretty well all over the country and that they had expanded the tour for another six months. He thought about his father's latest check up with the doctors. He hoped he got to spend thanksgiving in Ohio. He thought about the shy looks and goofy smiles Mercedes and Sam couldn't stop exchanging. These two needed to fess up; the sexual tension was almost too thick to walk through. He thought about Blaine's latest gig last weekend and how amazing the night had been.

His mind paused on Blaine and he felt his whole body sigh. He really didn't know what to think about their situation. He knew Blaine had fast become one of his closest friends. They had so much in common and yet they were just perfectly different. Blaine laughed at every joke not because he was being polite but because he actually got them, he found Kurt funny. Such a strange thought for Kurt. Blaine came to him for everything; be it a fashion advice or school problems or funny stories about kids at the kindergarten he was student teaching at.

The thing was Blaine had appeared into his life and took away the only constant in Kurt's life: solitude. Kurt had a loving family, crazy friends and a good relationship with his co-workers (he'd worked hard for that). He had a solid support system but Kurt had always been lonely. It almost became second nature to him, this ever present loneliness. He'd had a couple of boyfriends and he never lacked dates (Paris and more precisely Paris boys had worked wonders for his ego) but he'd never had someone who understood him. The whole complexity of him. Someone to be completely comfortable with, no second guessing and without being afraid of being just himself.

And then came Blaine and things changed radically for Kurt. Loneliness was replaced by comfort and acceptance. The loft was more alive than it had ever been: there was always music and laughter and movies and silly games and dancing and Kurt's head was always dizzy but I felt so wonderful he couldn't care less.

Sometimes.

The rest of the time it scared him senseless, because now he felt like all he was waiting for was for the other shoe to drop. There were so many dangerous territories in this new relationship. They had friendship, that was true but if Kurt was honest with himself, he would like more. They had friendship, yes but they were roommates. Temporary roommates. Sure, Rachel's kept pushing back the date of her return but she would be coming back and Blaine would have to leave. The thought alone was enough to keep Kurt up at night. They were friends and it was the easiest, most beautiful friendship Kurt had ever experienced and his feelings might be eclipsed by lust from time to time but Blaine's friendship was too important to jeopardize.

The problem was that the boundaries were starting to get a little fuzzy and he wasn't the one doing the fuzzing. A couple of weeks ago, Blaine had gone out with friends from school and had gotten monumentally trashed. Kurt didn't know the finer details of the story but it eventually lead to a sleepy-drunk Blaine, clad in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt stumbling into Kurt's bed in the middle of the night.

Kurt had frozen from head to toe, every bit of him processing the new information. Blaine, half naked, in his bed.

"Blaine," he'd called softly.

"Shhhh. Sleepy sleep," Blaine had mumbled softly in reply before proceeding to plaster himself to Kurt.

"Blaine, you're in my bed."

"You're comfy and you smell so wonderful," he'd sighed contently, tightening his arm around Kurt.

Flushing from head to toe, Kurt had willed his body to relax. "Oh."

"Good night, Kurt"

"Night, Blaine."

Suffice to say, Kurt barely slept that night. Blaine had apologized for a whole week afterwards. It was quite cute actually how his face would go all red and how he'd become super polite and flustered. Probably the cutest Blaine had ever been.

Cute or not though, he wasn't making life any easier for Kurt, especially since Blaine's feelings remained in the strictly friendly category. Kurt both dreaded and looked forward to the day Rachel would come back.

He was in the middle of dusting the frames when Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis came on. Kurt grinned widely to himself and started to shimmy along to the music. He used his feather duster as a microphone and started to sing his heart out. He danced around the loft, using pillars and other furniture as props, swinging and twisting and getting completely lost.

Just when Connie started complaining about not being able to do her homework, another voice joined Kurt.

I can't do my homework and I can't see straight

I meet him every morning 'bout a half-past eight

Blaine's lower register sent shivers up and down Kurt's spine. He almost lost his footing but Blaine was there to catch him and before he could react he was being twirled. And thus started the most thrilling three minutes of Kurt's weekend. At first, shock, inhibitions and perhaps a little embarrassment at being caught dancing around alone, prevented Kurt from really getting into it. That was without counting on Blaine's ability to make him melt and relax until he was the one doing the twirling.

They played with every lyric and every note; they danced around each other, sometimes up against each other. Blaine must have climbed on every piece of furniture available while still maintaining eye contact with Kurt and playing with him. At the bridge he grabbed the broom that Kurt had left leaning against one of the pillars and used it as a guitar. He dropped to the floor on his knees and made ludicrous faces while Kurt bounced around him. Blaine was quickly back on his feet, broom forgotten; he grabbed both of Kurt's hands to make the both of them twirl together. Their voices matched perfectly and neither missed a single word of the song. Kurt's cheeks were hurting from smiling too much and they were probably as red as Blaine's favorite bow-tie but he couldn't bring himself to care. For the first time in too many weeks he was having fun and he couldn't imagine anyone else making him feels like this. Blaine's eyes were huge and luminous and his own smile could probably outshine the sun, making Kurt's heart stutter sweetly.

Since I kissed his lovin' lips of wine,

The thing that bothers me is that I like it fine!

Hey, hey - set me free

Stupid cupid, stop pickin' on me!

They chased each other around the apartment, Kurt trying to bat away Blaine's hand with the duster while the idiot wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. The duster finally went down and Blaine used Kurt's mock outrage to plant a loud smooch on his cheek. Kurt froze in shock. It was a good thing Blaine was too busy pretending to have been hit by one of Cupid's arrow and falling backward on the couch to see Kurt's reaction.

Kurt's cheek burned and tingled. His chest was tight and his heart was fluttering. He felt like an idiot for reacting the way he did about a simple friendly kiss. It wasn't as if Blaine meant anything by it. It was just something he did in the moment, because of the song and because they were being silly. There was nothing more to it. Still, a kiss was a kiss; even a simple kiss to the cheek and the feeling of Blaine's soft lips against his skin was something Kurt wouldn't forget anytime soon.

The song changed; Promiscuous came on and Kurt took a few seconds to pull himself together. A small peck to the cheek was not going to bring Kurt Hummel down. He made his way to the couch, peered over the edge of it to find Blaine on his back, his shoulders moving in rhythm with the base line of the song. Kurt shook his head but smiled down at him.

"Having fun?"

"This song," Blaine grinned.

"I know. Hungry?"

"Starved. What are you offering?"

Kurt scoffed. "I'm not offering you anything, lazybum. In case you haven't noticed, I'm in the middle of cleaning up."

Blaine's eyebrow furrowed more and more as Kurt's sentence progressed. "Lazybum? Has work been so traumatic that you are now making up words instead of using already existing ones? Also, if you weren't offering food, why did you ask if I was hungry?"

"I'm just using my right as a human being to make language evolve. And I only asked in the hope that you would go get us something."

"But you insulted me first," Blaine pointed out, lips twitching into a smile.

"That's just the Hummel charm," Kurt winked causing Blaine to laugh.

"You are so full of yourself."

"I am cleaning your apartment."

"Our apartment."

"Still cleaning it."

"Why do I have the feeling that arguing with you won't lead me anywhere?"

"Because you're a smart boy."

"Is that supposed to make me forget about your previous insult and entice me to go get us lunch?"

"See? Smart."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rather on the short side but I didn't thing I should anymore to it. It's supposed to be short and cute. Promise part 6 is way longer. Enjoy :D

October 25th

From Blaine: Kurt! My gel supplies have disappeared. Again.

To Blaine: Interesting.

From Blaine: Would you happen to know anything about that Mr. Hummel?

To Blaine: No I do not, Mr. Anderson.

From Blaine: Kuuuuuuuuuuuurt!!!! I have to leave for student teaching in 10 minutes.

To Blaine: You better finish getting ready then.

From Blaine: I can’t without gel.

To Blaine: Now, that’s just dumb. This is just an opportunity to be creative. Spread your wings, Anderson.

From Blaine: You have ten seconds to tell me where you hid them or your Vivian Westwood scarf is going down the Kitchen drain.

To Blaine: You wouldn’t dare.

From Blaine: For my gel? I’d burn your whole scarf collection.

To Blaine: Fine! Just fine! But don’t come complaining to me when you’re 30 and all your hair has fallen off.

From Blaine: You still haven’t told me where it is.

To Blaine: Noticed that, huh?

From Blaine: Call me Sherlock Holmes.

To Blaine: It’s in the big kitchen drawer, behind Rachel’s vegan leftovers. PUT THE SCARF BACK EXACTLY AS IT WAS OR I SWEAR TO GOD!

From Blaine: STOP STEALING MY GEL!

To Blaine: STOP TORTURING YOUR HAIR.

From Blaine: NEVER!

To Blaine: HAVE A NICE DAY! I HOPE YOUR NEW CLASS IS GREAT.

From Blaine: THANK YOU! I HOPE NANCY DOESN’T STEAL YOUR LUNCH TODAY.

From Blaine: Oh! Is that where your stealing tendencies came from?

To Blaine: Nah, that’s just Puck’s lovely influence.

……

A couple of weeks later Kurt was woken up one Sunday morning by a handful of notifications chirping his phone awake. Half of his followers on twitter were replying to one of Santana’s tweet about him and Blaine. 

@Lesbihonest: LOtR night @ the loft yesterday. Looks like the hobbit and the elf end up together.

Attached was a picture of Kurt and Blaine cuddled up on their couch, asleep while The Return of the King was playing in the background.

Yesterday, after a long week of studying for Blaine and work for Kurt, the two friends had decided to stay home and have one of their now traditional movie nights. Sam and Santana who were both not in the mood to go out because of the poor weather (Kurt had a suspicion that Sam’s pouty attitude had a little more to do with Mercedes’ date with Joshua, her new beau, than with the rain) joined them. Santana who took the opportunity to make as many hobbit/gay jokes she could think of (and boy! could that girl be mouthy and inspired when she wanted to be) had nonetheless stayed the night and enjoyed herself more than she’d let on. Kurt and Blaine had fallen asleep before starting on the Hobbit trilogy and by the time they groggily made their way to their separate beds, Sam and Santana were nowhere to be found. It seemed that she hadn’t left without a souvenir though. 

Kurt mouth tightened at the edge as he tried to remain calm. Tried not to think of how Blaine might react. He’d been living with Kurt long enough to know what his friends were capable of. Kurt just hoped this particular prank hadn’t crossed a line.  
He looked at the picture and felt himself soften. It was a lovely, if a shade too dark picture. They were both in their pajamas, a blanket draped over their laps. Blaine head was on Kurt’s shoulder while Kurt’s head rested on the curls on top of Blaine’s head. They looked completely at ease in each other’s space; the picture spoke of intimacy and care. Kurt felt himself get fired up once again as he thought of that. Santana had indeed crossed a line and if Blaine wasn’t going to be mad about it, he could be angry enough for the both of them. 

He quickly showered and dressed before heading for the kitchen. There he found Blaine preparing a simple breakfast for the both of them.

“Morning,” he threw over his shoulder with a smile.

“Morning. I need your permission to release the Beyoncé video,” Kurt declared, tone clipped. Blaine paused in his cooking and looked at Kurt with wide eyes. He was used to Kurt’s short temper by now but the Beyoncé video was probably making alarms go off in his head.

“Uh-oh! What did Santana do?”

“Have you checked your phone this morning?”

Blaine’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink then, making Kurt’s stomach tighten. “Um. I can’t find it. I might have lost it to a couch cushion last night.”

“Oh.” Kurt cleared his throat and tried not to shiver at the memory of Blaine’s breath against his neck. “Yeah, well, here,” he said handing Blaine his own phone. As he took in Santana’s betrayal, Blaine’s breath caught slightly before his face softened into the most tender expression Kurt had ever seen.

“She almost sounds nice, though,” Blaine pointed out, his eyes still glued to the picture. Meanwhile Kurt’s heart was swaying to a waltz at the look on his roommate’s face. It was very difficult to live with someone as hard to read and as clueless as Blaine could be. In moments like this when his feelings seemed to verge on the ‘more’ side of things, Kurt had to remember to keep his head firmly on his shoulders and not let it wander to the clouds.

“She had no right to… do that,” Kurt replied after taking his time to sound composed. His anger towards Santana was a good anchor.

Blaine nodded. “You have my permission to unleash your wrath.” He gave Kurt’s phone back with a smirk. “Could you send me that?” he asked lightly, perhaps too lightly. Kurt prayed for patience.

“It’s on fucking twitter!”

“Oh right,” Blaine laughed before getting back to their eggs. “She might retaliate, though.”

“I can take her. We’ve known each other for almost a decade. You think this is the first time we’ve done this?”

“Fond memories?” Blaine chuckled.

Kurt pursed his lips and tried to remember that he was irritated. Oddly enough, battling with Santana was something he always looked forward to. Kind of. She was a worthy adversary and it was always fun to come with new ways to make her lose her calm.   
“The worst,” he replied with a smirk.

@Tellingitstraight: Revenge is served with a side dish of bitchiness and Beyoncé.

And Kurt attached the video of Blaine and Santana dancing and singing to End of Time. They were both very good but, clearly, that wasn’t the point. He sat at the table, watching Blaine finish breakfast while another internet war started. Unfortunately for him, things didn’t go exactly as planned. Though people enjoyed Santana and Blaine’s performance, they were still a little too interested with the picture she posted.

@MsShiningStar: nice try Kurt but let’s go back to trying to name yours and Blaine’s children.

@Puckzilla: that is a whole lotta gay.

@DrumStickFinn: LotR night without ME? You guys look good. I guess.

@TurnIntoaPose: can I be the godfather?

@MissJones: This is so cute I may have puked.

@PresidentBicorn: how can hobbits and elves make children? How tall would they be?

@Lesbihonest: They use stools, babe ;)

@Tellingitstraight: I hate you. ALL OF YOU.

Kurt pushed his phone away and dropped his head on the table trying to regain a semblance of calm and rationality. Maybe he could go out today and purchase a new set of friends. It seemed only fair. A cup of steaming coffee appeared in front of him and Blaine warm hand squeezed his shoulder affectionately. Kurt looked up with what he was sure was a martyrized expression. The touching helped, though. 

“Let’s move,” he pleaded.

Blaine smiled softly. “Whatever you wish.”

And how were that face and that smile even fair, Kurt would never understand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE STUPIDLY LONG WAIT.  
> But this is the longest chapter so far and it was such a fun one to write so I hope you'll enjoy. Thank you for all your kuddos and lovely comments!

Kurt was sitting at his desk, pretending to read through a bunch of e-mails when all he was actually doing was counting the hours before he left to pick his father from the airport. He looked down at the clock on his monitor screen: 10:57; only four hours before he was allowed to leave for JFK.

Carole and Finn were visiting Carole's sister for Thanksgiving which left Kurt three whole days alone with his father. Cooper was picking up Blaine later this evening; they were heading for the Hamptons where the Anderson clan gathered every year for the holiday.

As the day of the departure drew nearer, Kurt noticed Blaine getting more and more closed-off and subdued. Frankly, it was strange and a little unsettling to see Blaine (who Brittany had nicknamed her 'Sunshine Prince' merely minutes after meeting him two months prior) so quiet and withdrawn. Kurt guessed it had to do with Blaine and Mr. Anderson's distant and complicated relationship. From the tidbits of information he gathered over the months (Blaine didn't talk easily about his family) the Anderson family was a rather cold bunch. Mrs. Anderson and Cooper seemed to be the only exception in the sense that they didn't bring a dark scowl to Blaine's face when they were mentioned.

Kurt had seen only glimpses of Mrs. Anderson in the last few months. A few pictures in Blaine's room or on his phone. In a video of Blaine's high school graduation they had watched on their Trip-Down-Memory-Lane Night a few weeks ago. Or sometimes when Blaine Skyped with her in the living room instead of his own bedroom. Kurt would wave hello and she'd wave back with a beautiful smile. If he had to describe her in one word, he'd say warm. He knew where Blaine got that heart-breaker of a smile and those wild curls from.

Mr. Anderson however remained a mystery. Kurt saw him only once, in that graduation video, standing stiffly between Cooper and his wife with a tight-lipped smile on his handsome face. He didn't leave much of an impression except for a kind of distance that should have no place in family gatherings. Blaine rarely talked about him and whenever he did, it was with a quiet distaste that one might associate to a least favorite character in a story.

From what Kurt gathered, the rest of the family wasn't much better so, he could understand how Blaine might dread the upcoming weekend. Kurt had tried talking him into spending Thanksgiving with Kurt and his dad but Blaine had shaken his head miserably, mumbling something about not wanting to intrude. He'd looked so dejected, Kurt's heart had broken.

At least Burt and Blaine would get to finally meet, even if it was just in passing.

He was pulled out of his musings by Heather's voice-one of the many other interns in the office- and her high-heeled steps getting closer.

"Kurt's desk is just around the corner," she all but purred to someone and before Kurt had time to frown, Blaine appeared with a drooling Heather at his side. Kurt would have rolled his eyes at her ridiculous behavior if he wasn't too busy grinning like a fool. Blaine smiled back, a smile just this side of shy that caused Kurt's stomach to flip.

"Blaine!"

"Hi. Um, am I interrupting?"

"No. Not at all," there was a lull where Kurt noticed Blaine was carrying a plastic bag. Heather was still standing at Blaine's side (a little too close, he could see Blaine slowly inching away), probably imagining what Blaine looked like without the layers of winter clothes. Kurt couldn't really blame the girl; it had been his new favorite pastime in the last few weeks. Not that he needed too much imagination; shower time was both a blessing and a curse in the loft.

"Shoo," Kurt waved her off. She looked like she might cry. Kurt glared and he almost laughed when her shoulders slumped. She finally started to move away but chose to walk backward towards her desk, drinking in the sight of Blaine until the very last second. Kurt, who was not amused anymore, wanted to throw his pencil cup (pens and all) at her face but the blush on Blaine's cheek was both too endearing and distracting.

"No shame," he commented while shaking his head.

"Do you think I should start wearing a signs that says GAY in capital letters around my neck?" Blaine asked looking a little worried.

"Not sure it would keep them at bay. Plus, it might attract more problems than it solves."

Blaine winced comically. "Good thinking."

They shared a quite smile.

"Sooooo, what brings you by?" Kurt asked leaning back against his desk.

"Oh, right. Here," Blaine said coming closer to hand Kurt the bag. "You forgot your lunch."

"Aw, Blaine. You didn't have to come all the way here just for that. I would have ordered something."

"It's okay. I know how much you love your cheesecake. And it was the perfect excuse to come say good-bye in person," Blaine's smile turned sad.

"You're leaving? Already?" Kurt's stomach seemed to be filled with lead suddenly.

"Yeah. Uh- Cooper is downstairs. He wants to leave earlier to avoid traffic," Blaine shrugged.

"But… my dad," Kurt was aware of the pathetic tone of his voice as well as the pout on his face but he couldn't help them. He'd really been looking forward for Blaine and his dad to meet.

Blaine nodded slowly. He looked exactly like Kurt felt: utterly miserable and a lot irritated.

"This is why Cooper is my least favorite person. He doesn't take silly things like other people's feelings into considerations."

Despite his sour state of mind, Kurt smiled. "He's not your least favorite person."

"Today, he wins the title."

"There's always next time, right?" Kurt smiled faintly.

"Definitely. I left a little something for your dad on the kitchen table."

Kurt's heart fluttered uncontrollably at Blaine's bashful expression.

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to. Um… I should probably go. I don't want to keep you from work."

"It's okay," Kurt waved him off. "It's a slow day."

Blaine grinned cheekily. "I didn't know those existed in the Fashion World."

"Shhh. You can't tell anyone; we have a reputation to uphold."

"What kind of reputation are we talking about?"

"Fabulously busy at all times."

Blaine's laughter must have magical abilities; it was the only explanation for the way Kurt's whole being reacted to it. "And here I was, worried that you might be pushing yourself too hard." Kurt swatted his arm while Blaine shook his head in mock judgment.

"Well, excuse me Mr. Juice-Box. Not all of us have our future secured."

Blaine's inner child must have won a battle against adult-Blaine because he stuck out his tongue in reply.

"Nice. Really mature. You need to spend less time with 4 year-olds; it's turning you into an even bigger dork."

Blaine's come-back was cut short by his phone ringing. He dug it out and rolled his eyes before answering.

"Cooper… No, not yet…Ugh, Cooper," here, he sighed the sigh of a hundred tormented men. "For fuck's sake, Cooper! No you can't do that… Shut. UP!" Kurt was surprised to see Blaine's cheeks quickly turn a bright scarlet. He would have given a lot to know what had caused the reaction. "Fine. Okay, give me five minutes," he hung up without waiting for a reply.

"Are you sure he's 31?" Kurt smirked.

"In idiot years, yes he is at least that. I have to go before he causes… well there's too many possibilities," Blaine's eyes went wide with horror before he shook his head to get rid of whatever images were plaguing him. When he looked up at Kurt, he looked apprehensive.

Kurt tried to smile but it was proving difficult. It was the first time since he came back from Ohio in July that they'd be apart for more than a day. It was only three days but it seemed more like a decade.

"Well, have a nice journey. Take care and all that."

Why was it so awkward? Why did it feel like his lungs would never be filled with air ever again? Why didn't he make Blaine stay? Why did his life have to be such fucking drama all the time?

Blaine was shuffling his feet, looking at Kurt with puppy eyes and clearly not very eager to leave. Kurt guessed if he had to spend four days with Blaine's family, he wouldn't be eager to be on his way either.

"It's only three days."

"I know."

"The wait before spending time with extended family is always more excruciating than actually spending time with them."

Blaine shook his head, his face scrunching in that self-deprecating and completely adorable way of his. This particular expression was rendered even more lethal for the sadness in his brilliant eyes.

"It's not that. I just… It's silly."

Kurt tilted his head sideway and concern made him straighten and take an unconscious step forward. "Tell me."

"I just… I-I'm going to miss you, Kurt. A lot," he said, voice raspy.

Kurt's heart constricted in his chest until he could barely breathe through the pressure. He didn't expect that from Blaine. The boy had a knack for always taking him by surprise, though. Without thinking, he threw himself at Blaine. After his initial shock (and after he regained his breath), Blaine's arms came around Kurt and he squeezed him tightly. It was a warm hug, a hug that told a million of untold stories and promised a million of promises. It lasted a little too long but neither man minded; it was exactly what they needed.

"I'll miss you, too," Kurt whispered against Blaine's neck to which Blaine responded by squeezing him closer. Tears were no longer something he could avoid at this point so he let them flow and promised to berate himself later for it. Right then however, he was too busy soaking up everything Blaine to mind at all.

Eventually, they remembered that they were in Kurt's office and that Cooper was waiting downstairs, so they let go of each other.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Kurt."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Blaine. Don't kill Cooper on the way."

"I make no promises."

With one last wave and a beautiful smile, Blaine left. The memory of that smile and their shared hug lasted for the whole weekend. And, later that day, when Burt and Kurt got back to the loft, they found a pecan pie (Burt's favorite) on the kitchen table.

It was weird for Kurt to realize this while looking at a pie with his father standing next to him but there was no denying it anymore: Kurt was irrevocably, stupidly and completely in love with his silly, dorky, lovely, juice-box addict, bow-tie wearing, raspberry smelling roommate.

…

A selection of texts, Facebook messages and tweets exchanged during thanksgiving weekend:

Kurt E. Hummel posted a new picture on his time-line

[On a table kitchen, an empty pie dish with only a few crumbles left]

It didn't even last an hour. Thank you, Blaine.

Blaine Anderson

:D

You're welcome.  
\---

From Blaine: oh god. Uncle Fred is here.

To Blaine: is Uncle Fred not a nice person?

From Blaine: Uncle Fred is the best. Sober. Drunk he turns into... How do I put this delicately?

From Blaine: He turns into a demoniac version of Santana.

To Blaine: Oh god.

From Blaine: I'm gonna go hide.

To Blaine: Good plan.  
\---

From Cooper: Little Teddy found Little Blainey. [Attached was a picture of Blaine rolling around on the floor with a little curly haired munchkin.]

To Cooper: did Blaine forget to mention he has a son?

From Cooper: The resemblance *is* striking. Teddy is our littlest cousin.

To Cooper: This picture gave me a cavity.

From Cooper: I know. It's quite disgusting.  
\---

@Tellingitstraight: Force of habbit.

[Attached was a picture of three cups of coffee, one of them still full]

@BowtiesAreCool: @Tellingitstraight *clutches heart* Would it be insane to ask you to keep it warm for me?

@Tellingitstraight: @BowtiesAreCool Probably. Doing it anyway.  
\---

From Rachel: Ugh! Stuck in the middle of nowhere-ville. I miss you.

To Rachel: Oh Honey! I'm sorry. Miss you too. Thanksgiving without you is not the same. There's no-one to ruin my kitchen.

To Rachel: Har hardy har. How's Burt?

From Kurt: Happy as a clam. Still high on pecan pie. It's quite adorable.

To Rachel: :D Happy Thanksgiving, Kurt.

From Kurt: Happy Thanksgiving, Rachel.  
\---

@Lesbihonest: Thanksgiving with The Hummels.

[Attached was a picture of Kurt, Burt, Mercedes, Sam and Tina around a giant turkey.]

@DrumStickFinn: Mom and I miss you so much. Aunt Laney is a vegan...

@DanceCirclesAroundYou: You guys look like a Hallmark card.

@Tellingitstraight: @Lesbihonest I will end you for posting this.

@BowtiesAreCool: @Lesbihonest why must you hurt me so?

@Lesbihonest: @BowtiesAreCool I don't know who was more upset about your absence; Mr. Hummel Senior or Junior.

@NeverAProp: @Lesbinhonest @BowTiesAreCool definitely Mr. Hummel Jr.

@Tellingitstraight: @NeverAProp @Lesbinhonest @BowTiesAreCool You're both wrong. Blaine is the most upset of us all.

@BowtiesAreCool: Truth. Uncle Fred just found Gramps' secret stash. #backintohiding  
\---

From Blaine: Is it Monday yet?

To Blaine: That bad?

From Blaine: Worst. Apparently Aunt Lorelei is pregnant but Uncle Stan didn't do the impregnating.

To Blaine: No!

From Blaine: Yes! And Grandpa Charles may be on a wheelchair but it doesn't stop him from trying to play football with his grandkids.

To Blaine: Sweet but potentially problematic.

From Blaine: "Don't tell me what I can and cannot do Blaine Devon Anderson and throw the damn ball! Don't try to sass me, young man. I invented sass." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

To Blaine: Priceless. And always go with laughter. It keeps me saner than tears.

To Blaine: Also Devon? Every part of you is dapper, isn't it Mister Juice-Box?

To Blaine: Shut up! I'm Blaine Devon and Coop is Cooper Charles after our grandfathers.

To Blaine: How delightful. :D The Anderson bunch is more entertaining than reality TV.

From Blaine: Aren't we, though? And Grandpa Devon is currently not speaking to Grandma Hyacinth because she tricked him into taking his meds.

To Blaine: Poor Grandma Hyacinth. (lovely name by the way)

From Blaine: Poor me. He's being silent very loudly *next to me*. (and thank you XD I always thought so too)

To Blaine: Why don't you just change rooms?

From Blaine: Pfft! "Stay put, son. It's not like you have anything better to do, anyway."

From Blaine: Worst part of it all? He's completely right.

To Blaine: I don't know why you're complaining. This is pure gold. My dad just watches football while I read Vogue.

From Blaine: Trade?

To Blaine: You don't think they'd notice?

From Blaine: You can tell them you're a long lost cousin or something. We have so many of them; they wouldn't even bat an eye.

To Blaine: You're ridiculous.

From Blaine: Maybe you could curl your hair to make it more believable.

To Blaine: Can you feel the glare Blaine? Can YOU?

From Blaine: You'd still look fabulous.

To Blaine: Of course I would. I'm still not curling my hair. And how is this an actual conversation?

From Blaine: Just a small sacrifice. Wouldn't you do this for me?

To Blaine: No.

From Blaine: Pleeeeeease.

To Blaine: Your puppy eyes can't work if I can't see them.

From Blaine: If I can feel your bitch glare, you should be able to cave to my puppy eye looks even if you can't see them.

To Blaine: Are you drunk?

From Blaine: Nope. Just desperate.

To Blaine: Monday is just two days away.

From Blaine: You can't see me but I'm currently weeping.

To Blaine: You can't see me but I'm currently shaking my head.

From Blaine: You're usually nicer to me.

To Blaine: It's the puppy eyes. Can't see them, can't be overwhelmed.

From Blaine: Overwhelmed, huh?

To Blaine: Go to bed, Blaine. Be nice to your family.

From Blaine: Good night Kurt. I'll try not to overwhelm you too much on Monday.

To Blaine: sigh.  
\---

Blaine Anderson

My powers of persuasion are so *overwhelming* that I convinced my brother to leave on Sunday.

Cooper Anderson

Your power of persuasion or seeing Uncle Fred stark naked for the 3rd time in as many days.

Santana Lopez

I'm spending next thanksgiving with you boys.

Blaine Anderson

Trust me. You don't want that.

Kurt E. Hummel

She does. She'd get along with you crazy people like peas in a pod.

Brittany S. Pierce

Peas are not crazy. They're just misunderstood.

Mercedes Jones

A bit like Santana.

Sam Evans

Dude! Yes! Finally. It's boring in the loft without you.

Blaine Anderson

You do have your own place...

Kurt E. Hummel

Thank you for pointing that out, Blaine. I was just about to do the same.

Sam Evans

The food is better at your place but Kurt won't let me touch his stuff and Santana is mean.

Santana Lopez

Too many gay jokes.

Sam Evans

Santana, you're a horrible person.

Santana Lopez

You make it too easy, Trouty Mouth.

Kurt E. Hummel

Blaine, please come home soon and save me from these people.

Tina Cohen-Chang

Kurt, are you sure Blaine is the right person for the job? He's just as insane.

Kurt E. Hummel

Good point, Tina.

Blaine Anderson

HEY! Rude.

Mercedes Jones

But oh so true.

Brittany S. Pierce

It just means you're part of the family now Sunshine Prince.

Tina Cohen-Chang

You're welcome.

Kurt E. Hummel

Oh Boy.

Blaine Anderson

Tell me more about peas, Brit.

…

Blaine came home Sunday afternoon while Kurt was watching The Notebook for the millionth time. Burt was already on his way back to Ohio and Kurt was enjoying a bit of solitude for the first time in what seemed like months. Enjoying was bit of an overstatement, though because his heart all but sang with joy at the sight of his roommate. Blaine dropped his bag in the doorway and made his bleary, tired way to Kurt. His curls were in disarray and he was wearing an old pair of jeans with a simple black sweater as if it was all he was up to. The sight made Kurt's heart swell. Blaine was so very beautiful and he was finally home. When it came, his smile was tired but it was full and real. He dropped on the couch by Kurt's ankles.

"Hi," Kurt grinned.

"Hello," Blaine sighed contently. He picked Kurt's feet, shimmied until he was under Kurt's knees and settled there, with Kurt's legs on his lap. "Home sweet home," he breathed as he leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.

Kurt went back to his movie, heart full and happy as Blaine's fingers traced soft patterns on his knees.

…..


End file.
